


The Cat Came Back

by pasiphile



Category: Thick of It (UK)
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasiphile/pseuds/pasiphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of <i>course</i> Jamie wouldn't stay gone forever. (set after series 3 but before series 4)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cat Came Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wishwellingtons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishwellingtons/gifts).



After the reshuffle and the Nutter coronation, Jamie disappeared. Nobody knew where to, but of course rumours abounded. Some predictably said he'd gone and joined the SNP, some were convinced he'd been locked in a psychiatric ward, some think Malcolm just set him loose in the wild where he was now terrorizing innocent woodland creatures.

They didn't mention him, out of some sort of fear that saying his name would make him appear out of a stationery cupboard to bite their fucking heads off, but also because Malcolm had put out the word that Jamie was out of the picture now.

And the first rule of Whitehall? Do what Malcolm Tucker fucking tells you to do.

***

A new wind was blowing.

The clusterfuck of the last few days was over, a thing of the past, and Malcolm felt better than he had in a long time. Energy and excitement running through his veins, ready and rearing to go, to break some fucking opposition skulls, to do what he was _best_ at.

And with everyone still faffing about in panic like a herd of startled wildebeest, he could even get a full six hours worth of sleep before starting properly.

He switched on the lights in the hallway and ran a hand over his eyes. It did feel good to be back home, though, for just a few hours of peace and qui-

He paused, hand on the doorknob.

The lights in the living room were on, his files were strewn over the coffee table, and Jamie MacDonald was spread out across his sofa, leafing through several pages. Highly confidential pages. Pages that would make anyone caught with them receive a surprise visit from some very nasty people.

And the cocky little bastard didn't even look up.

'I could have you arrested for breaking and entering,' Malcolm said.

Jamie smirked. 'The papers would love that. _Disgruntled ex-employee burgles spin doctor's house_. Doubt it'll be enough to bump the elections, though. Maybe we could throw in some extra violence?'

Malcolm ran a hand over his face. 'I'm not in the fucking mood, Jamie. What the hell are you doing here?'

'Doing here?' he echoed, dropping his feet from the couch. 'Well, I'm being re-employed, aren't I?'

Malcolm glared at him. 'You're out of your fucking mind, son.'

'Yeah? You've got entire cabinet of panicky ministers who are barely even housebroken, let alone media-ready, a prime minister with the mental capacity of a fucking goat, _and_ the opposition's got Cal fuckin' Richards in. You need me here, man.'

'You think this is the first election I've managed? I can fucking handle this on my own, ta very much.'

'Yeah, well I think you can't handle it,' Jamie said, getting up slowly from the sofa. 'Want to know how I know that?'

'Yeah, go on, fucking _enlighten_ me.'

'I know you can't handle this because I had a very interesting chat with the lovely Samantha.'

Malcolm breathed in sharply through his nose. 'You slimy underhand little _cunt_ ,' he said in the sort of quiet tone that usually sent the civil servants running.

But this was Jamie, so he just went on. 'Very informative, that was. She told me that ever since you dumped me, you've been overdoing it, even by your ridiculous standards, which are fucking psychotic to start with.'

Fuck. But yeah, Sam would think that, wouldn't she? She was the sort of person who got worried about that. And for some reason she had broken her usual discretion for fuckin' _Jamie_ , of all people. What the hell had she been thinking?

But... Malcolm ran Jamie's words through his head again. Peel apart a sentence and find the weak spot, it was what it always did, and this time was no different.

'Since _you_ left, is it?' he sneered. 'I'm sorry to insult your massively inflated _throbbing_ ego but I had a fucking government to form.'

'And look how well that turned out, eh? You got fucking _sacked_.'

'I'm back in now, aren't I?' Malcolm threw his arms wide.

Jamie waved a dismissive hand. 'All part of the great Tucker Master Plan, yeah? That fucking bullshit might work on the politicians but don't your dare fucking try it on _me_.'

'You think you - '

'You were in the fucking _papers_ , Malc!' Jamie shouted. It wasn't nowhere near his top volume but he seemed to be working his way up there. 'All over the front page, _spin doctor resigns,_ dark heart of government, they were this close to bringing in your fucking _marriage_.'

There was a deathly silence as both of them glared at each other, breathing hard.

'And you think that was because of you, do you?' Malcolm said, voice back to glacier temperature. 'That I spent so much time crying my eyes out like Paula fucking Radcliffe that I didn't have time left to do my _fucking job_?'

'Nah, fucking professional to the fucking grave. And too fucking proud to admit you need help.'

'Help?' Malcolm laughed. 'From _you_? You're nothing but a fucking nuisance, why do you think I fucking sacked you in the first place?'

'Yeah? Go on then, fucking look me in the eye and say you don't need me.'

Malcolm whirled around, fully intent on putting the little shit in his place. Jamie was staring at him in that overly-intent way he had, and fuck it, he'd rather publicly fellate Steve fuckin' Fleming before admitting it, but he _had_ missed the little bastard.

'I don't fucking need you,' he said, but it was a second of hesitation too much, and Jamie never missed anything. He grinned in triumph.

Malcolm bared his teeth. 'Have you already forgotten _why_ I kicked you out, you backstabbing little shit? I should've fucking _obliterated_ you when I had the chance.'

'Yeah, but you didn't, did you? You could've destroyed me but instead you sent me to the middle of fucking nowhere. You put me in fucking _cold storage_.'

'And this is how you're planning to get my trust back, is it? Breaking into my house?'

'Well, it's not like anyone saw me.'

'Really? So I could just cave in your skull with my lamp and bury in my garden without anyone knowing?'

Jamie shrugged, supremely unconcerned. 'You might as well, half the cabinet thinks you've done it already.'

'Don't fucking tempt me.' Malcolm turned away.

'Admit it.'

He glanced up. Jamie looked even more furious than usual.

'You're losing it. These last few months? Cock-up after fucking cock-up. I almost couldn't believe it when I saw it on the news. The great Malcolm Tucker, making stupid fucking mistakes that would embarrass even a fucking _intern_.'

'Watch it,' Malcolm said, quiet and intense.

'Yeah? Why? Cause if you ask me, you've lost your fucking _bite –_ '

He crossed the room and grabbed Jamie by the labels of his grubby jacket, slamming him hard against the wall. Jamie was completely unfazed by this, though. Physical violence never impressed him. Jamie didn't know the _meaning_ of fear.

'You know what you are, Jamie?' Malcolm hissed. 'You're a fucking _liability_. I take you back on and I'll spend half of my time checking my fucking back for knives. Go on, give me one reason to trust you.'

'One reason?' Jamie snapped, eyes blazing, and that should have been warning enough.

He _lunged,_ hands on either side of Malcolm's face, kissing with a ferocity that made their teeth clack.

Malcolm was too fucking stunned to react, so Jamie frogmarched him backwards, not relinquishing his hold, until the back of Malcolm's knees hit the sofa, and even then he didn't stop pushing, so they toppled over, Malcolm landing flat on his back on the cushions with Jamie's full weight on him.

The fall had cleared his head though, and he managed to get his hands between them and lever Jamie off. He landed with a loud thud on the floor next to the sofa.

Malcolm stared at his spotless ceiling and tried to get the taste of cheap beer and cigarettes from his mouth.

And that was the _other_ reason he kept Jamie around. God, it had been too fucking long, pun intended. He scrabbled upright and buried his head in his hands.

'I don't need you,' he said, voice like sandpaper. Jamie was looking at him, very calm and observant. He licked his lips.

'But you'll come in fucking handy.'

He grinned, baring his teeth, and Malcolm rolled his eyes. 'Don't get overconfident.'

'I wouldn't dare,' Jamie said, radiating earnestness, probably channelling his inner choir boy.

Malcolm stood up, bones creaking, and looked down at the man on his floor, who wasn't making any signs of getting up any time soon.

'Haven't you got somewhere to go?'

'Actually I haven't. Rented out my old place. You wouldn't let an old friend kip on your sofa, would you?'

Malcolm looked down at the devious face and felt his lips tingle. He couldn't use his usual too-tired excuse, because he'd caught up on sleep during his leave. His resolve was quickly slipping.

Jamie tried for innocent.

Oh, fuck it.

'Get up,' Malcolm said, 'you've pulled.'

He jumped to his feet, beaming like mad. To most people that expression would be terrifying, but to Malcolm it felt like a shot of whisky after a long day.

'Think you can still get it up, old man?' Jamie said with a wicked tilt to his smile.

Malcolm grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him up the stairs.

***

Malcolm opened his eyes.

Sunlight was flooding the room. Why the hell hadn't he closed the curtains? He never forgot, he hated waking up in the light, what the fuck had he been -

 _Jamie_.

Malcolm sat up. Jamie was standing in front of Malcolm's floor length mirror, fiddling with his tie. Fucking ugly it was, too.

'Where did you get the suit?' Malcolm asked, voice still raspy.

'Don't worry, I didn't steal one of yours. You're too fucking skinny, anyway. I brought a spare.'

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. 'That sure of yourself, are you?'

'Plan for every eventuality. You fucking taught me that, remember? Or have you forgotten that?' He spun around, crossed his arms, smirked. 'Alzheimer's, Malc? You've got the right age for it.'

'I didn't hear you complaining about me being too old last night.'

Jamie's eyes fell to a bruise on Malcolm's forearm.

 _Nothing above the collar_ , probably the only rule either of them had ever consistently followed. He'd have to remember not to roll up his sleeves, though.

Malcolm rolled his eyes and got out of bed. 'Fuck off and make some coffee, will you? We have work to do.' He patted Jamie on the shoulder and went to his wardrobe.

'Got it,' Jamie said. He stalked out of the bedroom, already brimming with angry energy.

Maybe this would work after all.

***

Whitehall already had had its shock with the Formidable Resurrection of Malcolm Tucker; after that, the return of Jamie MacDonald was enough to send several people into mental breakdown.

He swaggered through the rooms as if he never left, leaving a trail of shocked gasps and the occasional fainting fit in his wake, straight to Malcolm's office. He smiled at Sam, quickly, secretly, a smile that approximates _normal_ , but after that he spent the rest of the day shouting – nobody quite understood how he keeps his voice.

At ten in the morning, Cal Richards called.

'A little bird told me your cockmonkey has returned,' he drawled, arrogant and cocksure as always, but Malcolm could smell the fear.

'We're going to tear you to fucking pieces, you and your whole fucking freakshow of senile etonian wankers.'

'Don't forget to keep watching over your shoulder.'

'Fuck off, you condescending prick,' Malcolm said, almost affably.

'Looking forward to your downfall, Malcolm.'

He disconnected and looked at the ceiling. In the distance he could hear Jamie shouting at what seemed to be Julius Nicholson.

Maybe this would work after all.


End file.
